Albus Potter and the Broom Closet Society
by FourthDistraction
Summary: Al never thought he would do anything special at Hogwarts. All he wanted was to come in, get Sorted, and live a normal life while staying out of his brother's way. But from the first day, it seemed like normalcy wasn't even on the agenda. And when a classmate gets bullied, Al will find himself embarking on his own adventure.
1. Sorting

**A/N:** Hey all. I decided to try my hand at one of these as well (and possibly get the story posted before _The Cursed Child_ comes and destroys all of my lovely headcanons). I really liked the idea of Al going to Hogwarts and having his own sort of adventures with his friends, without necessarily putting the fate of the world in balance (because there can only be one Harry Potter~). So this story will turn out to be a lot more 'slice of life'-like, at least compared to the original series, but hopefully it will still be fun (I have plans for Albus, mwahaha).

If you guys are interested in this, let me know and I'll keep posting this. I'm going to try and get a chapter done at least every two weeks.

 **On teachers:** Canonically, McGonagall is retired at this time, but I didn't want to completely make up a new Headmaster, so I decided to just promote one of the older teachers. That said, I also 'retired' a good number of the original teaching cast that were McGonagall's age, and had to replace those with new characters. Except Binns. Binns will never retire.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize the name/can find it in the Harry Potter Wiki, it's not mine.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **Sorting**

* * *

Albus Severus Potter was nervous.

He couldn't remember ever being more nervous than he was on that day, as he stood in front of the Great Hall with the whole school's eyes on him, waiting for his turn to be sorted. He could hear Professor Crowe, the small, strict-looking witch with dark hair that had come to greet them from the boats, read off the names, could feel the way the room hushed as each first-year approached the Sorting Hat, as the Hat fell over their eyes. She was halfway through the list now, and had just finished reading 'Madison, Benjamin'. It wouldn't be long until she hit the 'P's.

He watched the Sorting Hat, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Beside him, his cousin Rose reached over, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed back, grateful that the pair of first years behind him hid the gesture from view. He didn't want to think of how much James would tease him if his brother caught him holding Rose's hand to get through this.

James. His brother's words were still echoing through his mind, his brother's insistence that he would be sorted into Slytherin.

 _It doesn't matter,_ Al told himself, remembering what his father had said. He forced himself to relax his grip on Rose's hand, forced himself to breathe. It didn't matter what House he got into. His parents wouldn't care. It didn't matter at all.

Ben Madison was whisked off to Hufflepuff, and Malfoy, Scorpius was called up to the Hat. Albus watched the pale boy walk forward, sweeping his eyes over the crowd of remaining first years. There weren't too many people left. Surely there couldn't be that many students remaining between M and P. He watched, holding his breath, as the Hat fell over Scorpius Malfoy's head, as the whole room held its breath again.

" _SLYTHERIN!"_ the Hat screamed, and time seemed to resume, the people in the room exhaling as the Slytherin table let out loud cheers, the Gryffindor table responding with a handful of—rather unfair, in Albus's opinion—boos. Scorpius walked off towards the Slytherin table, leaving the seat open for Meadows, Anna, and the cycle began again. And again, and again, and again…

"Don't worry," Rose hissed towards him as Piper, Ava became a Gryffindor. "You're not going to be in Slytherin."

Albus nodded mutely to show that he heard, pulling his fingers out of hers as the girls in front of him moved, to stop James from teasing him. There weren't that many people left. Sooner or later…

"Potter, Albus."

Was it his imagination, or did the room seem to go extra quiet for him? It wouldn't have made any sense if it had. Albus wasn't his father. He hadn't done anything particularly special, hadn't fought in the Battle of Hogwarts or stopped the Dark Lord. He wasn't even the first Potter child to go to this school—he had James for that. He was just—just Albus.

He had to be imagining things, he told himself, as Professor Crowe dropped the hat over his eyes. There was nothing special about him at all.

 _Nothing special, hmm…?_ asked a voice, sounding amused. _I'll be the judge of that._

Albus went rigid, gripping the edges of the stool tightly. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the voice let out a chuckle. He forced himself to breathe, to relax as the voice started humming thoughtfully to itself, speaking softly.

 _Now let's see, young Potter, where shall I put you? Gryffindor would be the obvious choice, yes, and I see that's where you want to go—_ Al felt his heart leap— _yes, there's bravery in here, ample amounts of daring, a touch of loyalty, yes…you would do quite nicely in Gryffindor._

There was a moment like an indrawn breath. Al screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the Hat's shout.

 _But,_ the Hat went on, _there is…something else here…Curious, very curious. Pride…yes, there it is, deep down…resentment—you resent your brother, don't you? No, don't answer that. Probably don't even realize it yourself. Thirst to prove yourself…you remind me of your father, young Potter, in that regard. Let's see…where should I put you?_

Anywhere, Al thought, stubbornly forcing himself to remember his father's words. For some reason, the Hat seemed to find this inordinately funny.

 _Anywhere, you say, but you don't really_ mean _that, do you? You want to be in Gryffindor, or at least you think you do. It's all right here…you want to be with your family. You've never struck out on your own before, have you, Albus? Never truly been alone?_

Al faltered, considering the Hat's words. He didn't know what to say to that. Of _course_ he wanted to be in Gryffindor. He had grown up surrounded by Gryffindors, by his brother, by his parents, by all of his aunts and uncles and cousins. And they were all there, waiting for him. All he had to do was say the word, he knew, and the Hat would put him in Gryffindor. It would respect his wishes—that was what his father had said. It would let him make that choice, if it came to that.

But…there was something…off about the way that felt. To step down from this chair and walk over to the Gryffindor table, to sit next to his brother and immediately be enveloped in a circle of Weasley cousins, to spend the next seven years knowing, _knowing_ that no matter what he did, he was part of a much larger group than himself, that he could never fail more than someone else in the group had failed, never succeed more than someone else in the group had succeeded.

It was all very…safe, Al realized. And he wanted that…didn't he?

 _You see?_ asked the Hat, as if Al had just worked through a rather difficult problem on his own. _You think that's what you want, but it's not, is it? The longer you look at it, the more it seems to fall apart. You would do well, you know, you would do just well enough in Gryffindor. But you wouldn't be satisfied with that, would you, Albus? No, of course not, it's all right here…_

But if not Gryffindor, Albus thought, then where?

 _Where indeed?_ said the Hat, and Albus got the sense that if it could, it would have been smiling. _I have a…suggestion to make, young Potter, although I have a feeling you may not like it…_

* * *

Al's Sorting was taking forever.

James Potter sat at the Gryffindor table with his cousins, a frown on his face as he watched his little brother sitting on the stool ahead of them. Whispers had begun to break out across the Great Hall as the minutes ticked by, some people keeping time on their watches. The word 'hatstall' had started to crop up in certain circles, particularly coming from Molly, sitting to his right, a pocket watch in one hand as she frowned down at it. Victoire and her siblings watched the Sorting with some concern, but James, who had even taken the trouble to clear a seat for Albus and Rose, was starting to get bored. And irritated. And hungry.

"Do you reckon the Hat's broken?" Fred asked, leaning forward on his arms across from James.

"How should I know?" James asked, keeping one eye on Al as the stretching dragged on. Ahead of him, Louis looked back.

"It's not broken," he said. "He's just hatstalled, that's all. It happens."

"It's not a hatstall," said Molly, frowning in irritation as she looked down at her watch. "He has at least another minute to go before we can call it that."

"No one cares, Mol," said Dominique, from beside her brother.

" _I_ care," said Molly, letting out an annoyed huff. "I bet _Rose_ cares too."

"Well we'll never know what Rose thinks, because at this rate, she's never getting here," said Louis.

James drummed his fingers on the table as he waited, listening to the steady tick, tick, tick of Molly's pocket watch. What was going on, anyway? When it was his turn to get Sorted, things had been fairly straight forward. The Hat had taken one look at him and put him in Gryffindor, no questions asked. He knew it took a longer time with some cases, but he couldn't imagine what on earth was taking _Al._

His little brother couldn't really be all that complicated, could he?

"Oi, Al…" he muttered under his breath. "Get on with it already…"

Seconds ticked by, and still the hat remained silent. Then, from his side, Molly Weasley let out an 'aha' of surprise.

And the hat opened its mouth.

" _SLYTHERIN!"_

Silence fell over the Hall. James watched, eyes wide, as Professor Crowe reached over and plucked the Hat from Al's head, looking around at his cousins, all of which seemed to have been struck speechless. Only Molly, whose eyes were still fixed triumphantly on her pocket watch, was smiling, the rest were staring with expressions that ranged from dull shock to mild horror. An entire gaggle of Weasleys, mostly redheaded but not entirely, turned to face him, as though he had somehow been personally responsible for this. And then, as if the Great Hall were waking up, as if the other students had finally realized what happened, the Slytherin table erupted into cheers.

* * *

The rest of the Sorting passed without incident.

After Al made his way to a seat at the Slytherin table, amid stares and whispers from members of the other Houses, he got to watch as the Scamander twins, whose mother was supposedly a friend of his parents, got sorted into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and as his cousin Rose, who still looked a little shell-shocked about his Sorting, approached the Hat and was placed—to no one's great surprise—in Gryffindor. He couldn't remember a part of his life where he was separated from both James and Rose, and seeing the two of them sitting together at the Gryffindor table and sending awkward glances his way made him feel…well, a little left out. It was all well and good for the Hat to say that Al needed to learn to stand on his own feet sometime, Al thought, but it would have been nice if the Hat had given him some sort of direction to do so before sending him on his way.

Thankfully, Al was soon distracted by the start of term feast. He watched as the smallest wizard he had ever seen got up to deliver the opening remarks, and then, when he was finished, the feast began. Al had grown up in a fairly well-off family, but he had never seen so much food together in one place in his life, and ate with gusto, filling his plate. He was just reaching for seconds when an older boy materialized beside him, pulling a serving plate closer to them so that Al could reach it.

"Here, Potter—let me help you with that."

Al looked up at him as he finished filling his plate. He was a tall boy, brown-haired, a little sharp-faced. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken, but there was a grin on his face that seemed genuine. A little belatedly, Al remembered some of the more unfavorable things that James had said about Slytherin House and felt a little worried, but certainly they couldn't be _all_ that bad, could they?

The boy extended a hand towards him, sitting back down. "Noah Dennell, Slytherin prefect, at your service. Do you go by Al or Albus, Potter?"

"Al's fine," said Al, reaching up and clasping Noah's hand. The prefect shook it warmly and gestured for Al to keep eating. Al did, eating slowly while Noah talked.

"I must say, what an unexpected surprise it is to have you in Slytherin House," said Noah. "Now, I'm sure you must have heard some…unsavory rumors about our House, given the company you've grown up with, so let me just put those to rest. Those rumors are not true. Slytherin House is no more 'Dark' than any of the other Houses at Hogwarts—except perhaps Hufflepuff, but then again, the Hufflepuffs don't bother many people, do they?"

Al frowned, eyeing Noah suspiciously from a mouthful of potatoes. He wanted to believe what Noah was saying, that was true, but he _had_ heard things. He swallowed a little too fast and nearly choked, then, when he had collected himself, spoke up again. "So all those things about how Slytherin bullies people who aren't pureblood…" he began.

"Well, I can't speak for _everyone_ in Slytherin House, certainly not," said Noah, "But that behavior will not be tolerated while I am a prefect at this institution. Why, our Head of House Professor Stonecroft has spoken _at length_ about tolerance to people of all bloods and backgrounds, and this year we even have a Muggle-born among our number, our own Miss Gisella Flynn."

He gestured at a small girl who sat across from Al, who seemed to be trying her best to eat despite all of the people who seemed to be crowding her. In Al's opinion, she looked profoundly uncomfortable with the attention, although all the people surrounding her seemed to be quite friendly.

"Bet you've never seen magic like this, have you Gisella—."

"Now, this is a fork. Have Muggles got forks?"

"Of course Muggles have got forks, Flint, you blundering idiot. Get away—you're embarrassing her—."

Al glanced at Noah, who seemed to be watching the scene with some element of embarrassment. He gave Al a sheepish grin. "Well," he said. "Perhaps they're a little…overenthusiastic, but never let it be said that we're not trying!"

"I can…see that…" Al said.

"I should go break that up, shouldn't I?"

"Probably should."

"Right, well." Noah stood up, suddenly looking the picture of authority. "I'll leave you to meet your classmates, Al. Let me know if you need anything."

Al watched Noah go, a little bemused, and continued eating. Before the prefect could make it around to that side of the table, another first year girl had already jumped to her feet, shooing people away from Gisella Flynn with a voice that sounded entirely too loud to belong to so small a body.

"Get away from her—get away, you vultures—can't you see you're crowding her?"

The crowd dispersed. Noah, who was still several feet away, looked profoundly relieved. The girl, a little thing with curly dark hair, who might have been adorable had it not been for that _voice_ , dropped into the sudden empty space around Gisella.

"Circe," Al heard her say. "Circe Rosier. Don't worry. I'll keep them off of you."

Gisella gave her a grateful, though still somewhat stunned smile, and Al missed out on hearing her reply when someone clapped him around the shoulder, hard enough to nearly send him face first into his food. He looked up into the face of another boy from his year, one who was grinning. He had dragged along a smaller boy with him, and the other boy was staring down at his feet, looking unsure of himself.

"Nott—," said the first boy with a grin. "Leander Nott, and this is Tristan Lynch. We're in your year."

"Albus Potter," said Al, moving over so that they could sit. "Call me Al."

"We _know_ ," Leander said, taking the offered seat. "I was just telling Tristan. My father says your dad's just an old crackpot, but I don't believe a word of it. Right, Tris?"

Tristan, who looked profoundly embarrassed to be even caught up in this, said nothing, just nodded and looked down at the plate in front of him, not meeting Al's eyes.

"Uh—that's great," said Al, not entirely sure what to say.

"I think he's just bitter, you know." Leander sat up straighter, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. He seemed to puff up with the self-importance associated with children who knew more about certain things than they were supposed to. "There's a lot of things I'm not supposed to talk about."

"Want some pie, Leander?" Al asked, because thankfully, the dessert had arrived.

"Yes, please," said Leander, and that sufficiently distracted him for a time.

Al used the lull in conversation to talk to Tristan, who seemed like a perfectly reasonable sort of boy now that Leander wasn't breathing down his neck. The two of them were just starting a conversation about Quidditch—this was a subject that Leander apparently 'knew a lot about', and so he nearly choked on his pie trying to finish it fast enough to join them—when Al looked up, noticing someone eating alone not too far from him.

"And as I was saying, the Ballycastle Bats are definitely coming back around this year, I mean how could they not, best team in the League—Al?"

Leander looked up from his rant, noticing where Al was looking. He blinked, then looked back at Al. "Oh, that's Malfoy," he said. "Scorpius Malfoy." There was that conspiratorial tone again as Leander leaned in. "His family doesn't get around much."

"Scorpius," Al called, making the pale-haired boy look up. "D'you want to come sit with us? We're talking about Quidditch."

Scorpius blinked, as if surprised that someone was actually talking to him. Then, he seemed to come back to himself and let out a disdainful little sniff, looking away. "No thank you, Potter," he said coolly.

Al frowned in confusion, looking back at Leander and Tristan, who were watching Scorpius with expressions that ranged from confusion to anger. Leander, who was angrier than Tristan, let out a huff, turning back to Al. "Never mind him, Al," Leander said. "I heard all about him from my dad. His family doesn't have any friends. They say his grandfather's an old coot—lives in the past—and his dad's almost like a recluse. Now, as I was saying about Ballycastle—yes, Puddlemere's a great team, but—"

But Al had stopped listening, because it was at about this point that he started getting an idea, an idea that would follow him for the rest of his first year at Hogwarts.

That was the moment that Al resolved that he would become Scorpius Malfoy's friend.


	2. Slytherin Loyalty

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews and support guys. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **Review Responses:**

 **JeanAndBilius,** thanks! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **ScarletAvenger,** thanks so much. Glad you liked it, and Al's Sorting will definitely have an effect on his relationship with James, although hopefully it won't become too bad.

 **RainyDaysAndGoodBooks,** thanks and glad you like the title! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize the name/can find it in the Harry Potter Wiki, it's not mine.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 **Slytherin Loyalty**

* * *

The start-of-term feast had left Al content and sleepier than he had been in a long while, so when Noah Dennell led the Slytherin first-years through the dungeons and into their dormitory, Al managed to stay awake just long enough to scribble out a letter to his parents, before realizing that he had no way to _send_ it at this time of night. He placed the letter on the nightstand beside his bed, collapsing into a pile of pillows and sheets. He fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the water sloshing against the dormitory windows, and was roused only when something dark and billowy landed on top of his head.

"Wake up, Potter," said a voice. "You're going to be late."

Al blinked sleep out of his eyes, yawning deeply as he pushed himself up in bed, looking around the dormitory. The quality of light had changed, but the room still looked like it was underwater. The light in the room was dim, and faintly blue. A glance at the window told him that he wasn't wrong. The room's glass windows seemed to be completely submerged in water, looking out at an endless blue expanse. His eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'o'.

"Are we under the lake?" he asked, his head swiveling around to face the dormitory's sole remaining occupant.

"Of course we are," Scorpius Malfoy said, giving him another disdainful glance. "Didn't you know that?" He turned away from Al, picking up a bundle of books from the trunk at the foot of his bed. Al blinked down at his sheets to see his own black robes, lying on top of the green silk bedspread. He looked up at Scorpius, who had gathered his books in his arms and was heading out the door. The rest of the first-years seemed to be gone. He glanced at the watch beside his bed, his eyes widening when he realized how late it was. Al quickly sprang out of bed, throwing on his robes and running his hands through his hair in a failed attempt to comb it as he chased Scorpius out the door.

"Thanks for waking me up, Scorpius," Al said, emerging from the hidden passage way into the cool air of the dungeons. He hurried to catch up to Scorpius, who had increased his pace, making it difficult for Al to draw up beside him. "I appreciate it."

"Don't get the wrong idea," said Scorpius, frowning at Al. "I just needed to come back for my books. Slytherin doesn't need to lose points on the first day."

He broke away from Al as they reached the Great Hall, moving towards an empty seat at the Slytherin table. Al frowned, trying not to take it personally. He moved to join Leander and Tristan, who he had spotted eating breakfast on the other side of the Slytherin table from Scorpius, but was stopped on his way past the Gryffindors by someone calling out his name. Al blinked, looking over his shoulder to see James waving him over, seated next to Rose and Molly, who was in his year.

Al looked back at the Slytherin table, but Leander and Tristan seemed not to have spotted him. He made his way over to James, slightly wary in case this was his brother's way of luring him closer to make fun of him, but James seemed strangely concerned as he looked Al up and down.

"You're alright?" James asked. "They haven't beaten you up or anything?"

"Beaten me up?" Al blinked in surprise. "Why would they beat me up?"

"Because they're _Slytherins_ , Al," said James, saying the word like it was a curse. "They're mean and nasty, and—and dangerous!"

Al blinked in confusion, frowning at his brother. "You said you thought I'd be in Slytherin."

"I was just _teasing_ you," said James. "I didn't actually think—."

"Alright there, Potter?" asked a voice from behind him.

Al blinked, looking up. An older boy was standing with a group of his friends. He had addressed the question towards Al, but his eyes were on James, narrowed dangerously. James went tense, and Al thought he saw him reach under the table for his wand. "Go away, Selwyn," James said. "This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Wasn't talking to you," Selwyn said, his eyes moving back towards Al. "Asked you if you were alright."

"Uh—fine," said Al, exchanging a quick glance at James. His brother wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was eyeing Selwyn with distrust. "Just talking to my brother."

Selwyn met James's eyes for a moment longer before looking away, tilting his head towards the Slytherin table. "Should get something to eat if you haven't yet," he said. "Class'll be starting soon."

"Oh—uh, right," said Al, glancing down at his watch. "See you, James. Rose, Molly."

He said goodbye to the others quickly, setting off for the Slytherin table at a brisk walk. To his surprise, the older boy, Selwyn, waited for him to catch up before falling into step beside him. "No offense, Potter," Selwyn said, "But your brother's an arrogant git. Has been ever since getting on the Gryffindor team."

"Really?" asked Al, with a glance back at James. James had been insufferable all summer, ever since joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker last year. The fact that Gryffindor had only lost the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw by the narrowest of margins had done nothing to give him a dose of humility. "I wouldn't have guessed."

Selwyn snorted softly to show that the sarcasm was appreciated. Al's face burned as he hurried towards the Slytherin table, and he felt a sudden pathological urge to defend his brother. "James isn't all that bad, though," he said. "He's just a little…loud."

The older boy shrugged in response. "He's your brother," he said, in a way that implied a touch of pity. "He just happens to be in _my_ year." He turned towards Al, extending a hand. "Morpheus Selwyn. Call me Morph. Everyone does." Morph's glance back at the Gryffindor table seemed to imply that 'everyone' didn't include James Sirius Potter.

"Uh, Albus Potter," said Al, taking Morph's hand. "You can just call me Al."

"Good to meet you," said Morph. He looked back at the group of Slytherins behind him, two boys and a girl. "If your brother gives you any trouble about being in Slytherin, find one of us. We'll deal with him for you."

"Um, thanks," said Al. "I think."

Morph nodded at him, going off to an empty seat and leaving Al to scramble onto the bench beside Leander and Tristan. It was late enough now that most of the food was gone, and he quickly helped himself to eggs and toast, stuffing his face.

"Morning!" Leander said, as he ate. "We thought you were never going to get up. I was planning on heading back to wake you, but we saw Malfoy heading back and thought we'd ask him instead. You doing alright?"

Al nodded, coughing as he choked on toast. He took two large sips of water, looking back up at Leander. "Fine," he said. "I just had the weirdest conversation with my brother, and then some third years came by. I think they were trying to get me out of it." He told Leander about his conversation with James, and the encounter with Morph Selwyn and his friends.

Leander wasn't even surprised. He simply nodded as if he had been expecting that, and drained his glass of orange juice. "That's Slytherin loyalty for you," he said. "Once you're in, you're one of us. I'm not surprised your brother doesn't know that though. I heard the Gryffindors fight with each other all the time."

"We got our timetables, by the way, Al," said Tristan, sliding a sheet of paper across the table at him. "This one's yours."

Al frowned at it as he ate, choking down another mouthful of eggs. "We've got Transfiguration with Professor Stonecroft and then Herbology with Professor Longbottom," he read, his eyes widening in recognition. "He's one of my dad's friends!"

"I heard about him," said Leander, eyes widening. He looked around to see if anyone might overhear, then lowered his voice. "Didn't he kill You-Know-Who's snake?"

"With the Sword of Gryffindor!" said Al, nodding quickly with the excitement of being able to contribute to the conversation. "I used to hear that story all of the time." He told them about it between mouthfuls of food, trying to get as much of his breakfast down as he could before class started.

Despite both of his parents telling him that things would start out slow, Al had found himself hoping that he would spend his first day _finally_ getting to learn magic, but as it turned out, he almost didn't need to bring his wand to the first week of class at all, let alone the first day. His first class at Hogwarts was Transfiguration with Professor Stonecroft, a tall, dark-haired man who was also Slytherin's Head of House.

Professor Stonecroft welcomed them to Slytherin House with a sort of quiet intensity, and explained to them what they would be learning in Transfiguration. After almost an hour of copying down notes about the various uses of Transfiguration and what Transfiguration was or wasn't, he finally let them go with a reading assignment and a promise that, if they got through the material quickly, they could work on turning matches into needles on their second day of class.

On their next meeting, a Double Transfiguration session with the Ravenclaws, only Scorpius Malfoy actually succeeded at turning his match into a needle, a failure of Slytherin House heightened by the fact that a full two-thirds of the Ravenclaw first-years had managed it. A request to Scorpius that he quickly transfigure all of their matches before Stonecroft could come around to check on them was summarily denied, and the remainder of the Slytherin first-years: Al, Leander, Tristan, Circe, Gisella, and a quiet girl named Rheia Carran, survived the humiliation united in defeat—and a slight feeling of frustration towards Scorpius Malfoy. Small, quiet Tristan revealed a supply of goods from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that was almost embarrassing in their quantity and variety, and vengeance was swiftly obtained during lunch by the addition of a tasteless powder into Scorpius's drink that made his hair shift from platinum blond to a particularly virulent shade of electric blue for the remainder of the day, after which the slight was forgotten.

After Transfiguration on Mondays and three times a week, they had Herbology with Professor Longbottom, who had smiled at Al on the first day of class and, after letting them pair off and giving them something basic to work on to start, asked after his family. Al responded eagerly, and Professor Longbottom left him with a quiet word that Al could go to him if there were any problems at Hogwarts before sending him on his way.

They had Defense Against the Dark Arts with a Professor Dennis Creevey, who had spent an inordinate amount of time talking to the class about Harry Potter's achievements after reaching Albus's name on the roster, which still made Albus's face burn to think about, and they had History of Magic with Professor Binns, who was somehow even more boring than his parents, James, and all of his cousins had made him out to be. They had Potions with Professor Crowe, who, despite her small stature, seemed to exude an air that told Al she was 'not someone to be crossed'.

Charms was taught by Professor Belrose, a kind, blond man who greeted them all with cupcakes that changed their color and flavor with each bite on their first day of class, to welcome them to the school. He explained that before Headmistress McGonagall's retirement (and Headmaster Flitwick's subsequent promotion), he had been the Care of Magical Creatures professor, although he had 'a NEWT in Charms and decided he may as well make the best of it'. He didn't teach them much actual magic on the first week of class, nor did he bring any sweets after the first meeting, but Al got the impression that he was a genuinely nice man.

On Wednesdays at midnight, they made their way up to the Astronomy Tower with the Gryffindors, to learn the names of the planets and their positions in the sky from Professor Sinistra. He ran into Rose then, and as the two of them worked together to find Mars's position, she let slip that the Weasleys had a plan to break Al out of Slytherin if he needed it. Al, who was fairly certain that the Hat's decisions were final, and who wasn't having as much of a bad time of it as all of his cousins seemed to think, assured her that everything was alright, but Rose didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?" she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Blink twice if they're making you say this."

Al simply rolled his eyes and pointed out Mars to her.

All in all, though, it wasn't as bad as he had feared. True, Slytherin Dungeon _looked_ cold and unfriendly, but he had started to appreciate the sound of the water lapping against the walls and windows, and true, _some_ of the Slytherins looked mean, but those tended to leave him alone, even nodded once or twice as he walked past them. Out of the people in his year, Rheia Carran hardly spoke to anyone but her sister, a seventh-year Slytherin named Parthenia, but she was friendly with them when spoken to and happy to join them in things when invited. He was quickly becoming close to Leander and Tristan, and had even tried reaching out to Gisella, but Circe, who had taken it upon herself to be Gisella's staunch protector, was suspicious of him.

"Gisella doesn't _want_ to talk to you!" Circe shrieked from the door to the girls' dormitory, her shrill voice ringing out in the echoing space of Slytherin's common room. "She doesn't _want_ to play with you! She just _wants_ you to leave her alone!"

"But we just want to see if she wants to learn wizard's chess," Al said, blinking at the small girl in confusion.

"Oh, really," Circe said, scowling in suspicion at Al, Tristan, and Leander. "You just want Gisella to play with you out of the goodness of your hearts? No other reason? How come you don't want _me_ to play with you, hmm? How come you don't invite _me_ to play?"

"Because you're part-harpy…" Leander muttered behind Al, where Circe couldn't hear him.

"Do you want to play?" Al asked, blinking at her helplessly.

"No!" said Circe sharply, drawing herself up to her full height of a head shorter than Al. She rested her hands on her hips and seemed to be drawing in breath as she met his eyes. "I'm on to you, Al Potter," she said. "I'm on to all of you. You just keep your pureblood savior complex away from Gisella! She does not need you to _save_ her from her Muggleborn heritage, and she is not an animal to be gawked at at the zoo!"

With that, she drew back from him, slamming the door closed in his face. Al blinked as the sound of the slam reverberated through the chamber, his ears still ringing from Circe's voice. He looked over his shoulder at Leander and Tristan, who were staring at the door with identical expressions of shock.

Finally, Leander spoke first, his brow furrowing. "What's she on about?" he asked. "What 'pureblood savior complex'?"

Al shrugged. "Search me," he said. "I'm half-blood."

His overtures towards Scorpius Malfoy were also summarily rejected, as Scorpius didn't seem intent to talk with anyone, or befriend _anyone_. The pale-haired boy seemed content to sit in the farthest armchair with a book, or sit on his bed with the curtains half-drawn. Leander and Tristan had already lost all patience with him, but Al kept at it, continuing to invite him to do things with them or leaving a kind word before running out into the common room to join the others. He liked to think that he was getting somewhere. After all, Scorpius actually _looked_ at him when he talked now.

On Tuesday, the second day of class, a letter arrived from his parents, bringing a tin of cookies from home and a promise that neither of them were at all upset about his Sorting. He set aside some for Rose and shared the cookies with his friends, even leaving the tin beside Scorpius's bed with a note. The note was gone when he checked later, and there was one fewer cookie inside the tin, but no one said anything about it and life resumed as normal. And on Friday, something else happened.

An owl landed in front of him at breakfast, bearing a letter.

"Did you get a letter?" Leander asked, practically shoving him to get at it. "Who's it from? Can I see?"

Al obligingly shifted over to let him see, tearing the letter open. A sheet of paper fell out, written in a large hand.

 **Al,**

 **First years still get Friday afternoons off. Do you and Rose want to come over for tea?**

 **Hagrid**

"It's from Hagrid," said Al, showing the note to Leander. Leander stared at it, his eyes wide.

"I don't know anyone who's been in the gamekeeper's hut," he said, looking at Al. "D'you think me and Tris could come?"

"Um, I'll ask Rose," Al said, his eyes flicking towards the Gryffindor table. "She might not be very comfortable with it. What've we got today, anyway?"

Leander glanced at his timetable, making a face. "Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs," he said. "I'm telling you, I'm not looking forward to running into Crowe again."

Al gave him a sympathetic smile, finishing his meal.

* * *

He managed to catch Rose on the way out the door to Potions. As it turned out, Hagrid had sent her an identical note, and she had already said yes, she would love to have tea with him. The distrustful look that she had given Leander and Tristan, though, told Al that her goodwill didn't extend to all of his fellow Slytherins. He gave her a smile, promising to come alone, and followed the others down to Professor Crowe's Potions class.

Professor Crowe sat perched at the edge of her desk as the students walked in, a frown on her face as she directed them towards seats. He noticed that there were no chairs waiting for them at the front of the room today. Instead, the benches and worktables had been cleared, which suggested a practical lesson. The class was split almost exactly down the middle, Slytherins staying to one side of the room and Hufflepuffs to the other.

"We'll be working on a Sleeping Draught today," Crowe said, when the last of the Hufflepuffs had filed into the room. "You should find the instructions in your textbook—I shouldn't have to tell you where. Please remember the safety protocol we discussed in the last class. Don't lean directly over the cauldron, don't breathe in any fumes, and follow the recipe exactly and precisely. Work in pairs. There should be an even number of you in here. Begin."

The students hesitated after Crowe's pronouncement, a few of them looking around the room. Al frowned as muttering started up between the Slytherin and the Hufflepuff camps, realizing what was bothering them. There were an even number of students here, true, but an odd number of Slytherins and a corresponding odd number of Hufflepuffs. No matter which way the teams worked out, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff would have to pair up together.

He looked back over his shoulder to see that Leander and Tristan had already paired up and claimed a workbench, the both of them offering him apologetic smiles. Al shrugged in response, not really seeing what the problem was. He made his way over to Scorpius, who was already at the Potions cabinet, dragging his cauldron out of the pile.

"No," Scorpius said, before Al could open his mouth.

Al blinked. "No what?" he asked.

"No, I don't want to partner with you, Potter," Scorpius said, picking up his cauldron with both hands and dragging it to the nearest workstation. "We aren't friends."

Al looked back over his shoulder. Circe and Gisella had paired off, Leander and Tristan were getting started, and Rheia Carran had already broken the ice and was talking in soft tones to a dark-haired Hufflepuff girl. There didn't seem to be anyone left. "There's no one left in Slytherin," he told Scorpius.

"I don't care," said Scorpius. "I'll work with a Hufflepuff."

He started angling himself towards one of the free tables, occupied by a blond boy that Al recognized as Lysander Scamander. Lysander blinked up at him with a dreamy, lost expression on his face, a sprig of valerian poking out of the corner of his mouth. Scorpius stopped walking, staring at Lysander in surprise. Lysander's eyes focused on him and a smile slowly spread its way across his face. He chewed once, contemplatively, and the sprig bobbed.

Scorpius turned around, walking right back towards the workstation nearest Al. "We still aren't friends, Potter," he said.

"Whatever you say," said Al, going to fetch the ingredients. He might have been imagining things, but he could have sworn that as he walked past Lysander again and the Hufflepuff girl that had walked up to partner with him, he saw the blond boy wink.

* * *

The rest of Potions class passed without incident, aside from one interesting moment where Lysander had decided to sample a bit of Flobberworm Mucus and had to have Professor Crowe cast a charm on him to pry his jaws apart. He and Scorpius made a passable—if a little dull—attempt at a Sleeping Draught, with only a handful of arguments about whether or not a paste was 'creamy' enough or how much Flobberworm Mucus constituted a 'blob'. After class, he ate lunch quickly and worked on a small portion of his assignment for Professor Belrose's Charms class, then headed down to the entrance hall in the afternoon to meet Rose for tea with Hagrid.

They made their way across Hogwarts grounds quietly. Rose had the pensive expression on her fact that told Al that she was trying to work through a difficult problem, so he said nothing, letting his mind drift as he looked out at the lake and wondered exactly which part of it he was seeing from his dormitory window. It was only when they were halfway to Hagrid's hut that she spoke.

"You're sure you're alright…" she asked again, "…in Slytherin House?"

Al nodded, tearing his eyes away from the lake and looking back at her. "Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. It really isn't all that bad, you know."

Rose frowned, pursing her lips together. "It's just…I've heard things."

He shrugged. "I guess we're not always the friendliest to the other Houses, but we don't really seem to pick fights among ourselves. It's kind of nice, really." He paused, looking back at Rose as he realized she was looking at him with a bewildered expression. "What?"

"You said 'we'," Rose said. "'Ours'."

"Well, I _am_ a Slytherin," Al said, starting to feel a little annoyed.

"Yes," Rose said, seeming to realize what she had said. She shook her head, looking back at Hagrid's hut. "Yes, I—suppose you are."

Al frowned, wondering what to make of that. For some reason, Rose's words didn't seem to sit well in him, and he wasn't in the best of moods when they reached Hagrid's hut. Thankfully, Hagrid himself didn't seem to think that his Sorting was as big of a deal as Rose and the others made out to him.

"If you're in Slytherin, you're in Slytherin," Hagrid had said, ushering the two of them into his hut. "Just keep your head down and stay out of trouble, and you'll be alright."

He was still irritated at Rose, but Hagrid's acceptance of his Sorting mollified him somewhat, and as he and Rose sat down to tea and a slightly lopsided looking plate of scones, he started to tell Hagrid about the rest of his first week at Hogwarts. Hagrid snorted and laughed at all the appropriate places when he talked about the strangeness that was Circe Rosier, but frowned when he mentioned Scorpius Malfoy.

"Don't bother with 'im, Al," Hagrid said. "He's not worth it. Knew his dad and his granddad too. Let me tell you, not a good thing at Hogwarts ever came out of that family."

"He doesn't seem too bad, though," Al said, tugging his mug closer to himself. "He just seems kind of lonely."

Hagrid didn't say much on the subject after that, but Rose eventually started to open up, and by the end of the visit, they were talking and laughing about the antics of some of the older Weasleys, and even sharing a quiet grin at the idea of Victoire, Head Girl, having a very loud and very public row with her sister Dominique about Dom being caught in the corridors at night.

"She's got a boyfriend in Ravenclaw," Rose said, "Or at least, that's what Freddie thinks. But Louis thinks it might be something else." She gestured vaguely with her hand, as if indicating that they could only speculate on what that 'something else' might be. "But Dom says it doesn't matter, because Victoire spends all of her time mooning over ' _Teddy Lupin'_." The last few words were said in a crooning, lovesick tone, and Al could practically see Dominique's face as she complained about her sister.

He laughed, asked after James, and got treated to a very long talk about James's antics with the Marauder's Map—which he had filched from their father's closet on the way out the door to King's Cross Station—and how Molly was going to have a fit if she ever caught him and Fred and Louis with it. He also got treated to a long and healthy diatribe about how James wouldn't stop talking about Quidditch and being a Seeker, and that if he didn't stop soon, Dominique, also on the Quidditch team, was going to enlist Louis's help in stringing him up from a Quaffle hoop.

By the end of the afternoon, he felt quite thoroughly reconnected with Rose and the rest of his family again, although her earlier concerns still seemed to weigh on him. He found himself considering them as she left him at the entrance to the dungeons, and he made his way back to Slytherin Dungeon alone. He cracked open a textbook, aiming to do Transfiguration homework, but he couldn't focus, and the thoughts were still on his mind as he followed the others to the Great Hall for dinner.

He was still thinking about it that night as he closed his eyes and went to sleep, lulled by the sound of the waves against the glass.


	3. The First Flying Lesson

**A/N:** Hey, all, sorry about the hiatus! I was doing Camp Nanowrimo in April, and it left me with no time to write anything else. Rest assured, I still want to continue this story, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy it! Thanks for your patience!

 **Review Responses:**

 **Guest (1),** it's not going to turn into Gryffindor bashing, no worries there. Right now, it seems that way because Slytherin and Gryffindor are rivals, and Al's still in the stage where he's very impressionable, and is basically getting the Slytherin side of the rivalry (Rose is hearing similar things about Slytherin from Gryffindor), but since she's not our POV character, we don't get to see them much. However, I can't promise that Al and James won't start bashing each other as they grow up, as befits sibling rivalry.

 **Guest (2),** thanks! I don't think anyone would disown Al for being in Slytherin, considering Harry basically just said it was okay in the epilogue of the books. Although since the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin rivalry is still strong (and there _are_ still Dark elements in Slytherin House), some concern is expected, lol.

 **ScarletAvenger,** thanks! I felt like the adults would be a little more removed from the rivalry and would be able to keep a more level head about it (it definitely seemed more important to the students in the books than to those that were already graduated, although it was still important to some of them).

 **JeanAndBilius,** thanks! Glad you enjoy it!

 **BuzzyBeeForever,** thanks, I'm really glad you like it! Some members of his family will definitely be able to get over it sooner than others (I'm thinking the older Weasley cousins will have an easier time than the younger ones, but hopefully it won't take _too_ long).

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize the name/can find it in the Harry Potter Wiki, it's not mine.

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 **The First Flying Lesson**

* * *

The first few weeks of term passed quickly, and before long, Al found himself settling into a routine. He tried to take as much time as he could to spend with Rose and his cousins, but as homework started intensifying, he found himself spending more and more time studying. There was so much to _learn_ about magic, and before long, Al's head was spinning. He had no idea how James and some of the older students seemed to be keeping up so easily.

It was one chilly morning in September, while he had his head down in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1,_ trying frantically to find more information for Professor Belrose's essay that was due tomorrow, when he heard Leander get up from the arm chair next to him, the other boy leaping to his feet and turning towards the common room entrance.

"Whoa," he said. "I think something's going on by the bulletin board!"

Al blinked, looking up. He had been staring down at his essay for so long that it took his eyes a while to focus, but there were indeed several students clustered around the bulletin board. He blinked, realizing that they were mostly from his year. Circe and Gisela were at the front of the crowd, Circe's hand clasping Gisela's protectively, while Scorpius and Rheia watched from a distance. He looked over his shoulder to tell Leander that, but Leander was already running, darting towards the bulletin board. His eyes widened as he reached it, and he looked back in excitement.

"Al! Tristan!" he called. "You need to see this!"

"What is it?" asked Al, already capping his ink bottle carefully and laying down his quill.

"Flying lessons!"

Al got up, walking over to the board. Sure enough, a notice had been posted saying that flying lessons for first-years would start that week, and that Slytherin first-years would be having theirs on Thursday afternoon.

"I can't wait!" said Circe excitedly, her voice cutting through the chatter. "Ah, I haven't flown in _so_ long!"

"Wait until you see _me_ fly," said Leander, grinning. "Mum says I'll make the Quidditch team for sure."

Circe huffed. "As a mascot, maybe," she said.

Leander scowled at her. "You take that back, Rosier."

" _Make_ me, Nott."

Tristan nudged him in the side, drawing Al's eyes away from the budding argument. "Your brother's on the Gryffindor team, isn't he?"

Al made a face. "Don't remind me," he said, looking back at the board. He felt a smile come onto his face in spite of himself, his mind flashing back to his last summer before Hogwarts, to memories of flying in the paddock near the Burrow, the wind in his hair as he played a quick game of Quidditch with Rose and the others. It had been fun, aside from that one moment where he was half-convinced James had tried to knock him off his broom.

"Um…" said Gisela, sounding uncertain. "I've never flown before. Is it…hard?"

"Oh, right!" said Circe, blinking at Gisela as if she had forgotten that the other girl was there. "Of course you've never flown before! Don't worry though. It's really easy. We'll show you!"

"We've allflown before," said Rheia, speaking up for the first time. "My sister taught me how when I was seven. I'm pretty sure _everyone_ from a pureblood family can fly."

She said it with a sweet smile, but the words didn't seem to improve Gisela's mood.

"My brother taught me how to ride a bicycle," said Gisela, looking away. "But…um…I guess it's not the same, is it?"

Circe shot Rheia a glare, releasing Gisela's hand to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "You'll be fine," she said. "It's loads of fun, and there's lots of people who've never flown before. We'll help you, right?" She looked around at the assembled group meaningfully. Al found himself nodding quickly, along with Leander and Tristan.

"I'll help teach you if you want," said Al.

"Oh, hey, that's right," said Leander, blinking as if he had only now noticed that Al was there. "Bet you're not bad on a broom either, are you, Al?"

"Um—I'm alright, I think," said Al, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I've been flying for a while, but I'm not as good as my parents."

"Oh, that's right!" said Circe, her eyes widening as if she had only just remembered something. "Al, your mum played Quidditch professionally, didn't she?"

Al nodded. "For a little while," he said. "She was—uh, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies."

"That is so cool," said Circe. "The Harpies are my favorite team!"

"Really?" Leander muttered. "I would never have guessed…"

Circe ignored him. "Hey, you don't think she's still in touch with any of the players do you? Do you think I could get their autographs? Because that would be _amazing_ —"

Behind him, Scorpius let out a snort of derision, turning and walking away. Circe trailed off mid-sentence, frowning as he watched him. Conversation stilled, the others looking up to see what had happened. Their eyes lingered on him until he disappeared behind the door to the boy's dormitories, the silence broken only by the steady sound of the waves lapping against the glass.

It was Leander who broke the silence, scowling after Scorpius. "No _wonder_ no one can stand him," he said. "The way he acts, you'd think he owned the school."

Al frowned, but said nothing, turning back to the others. The conversation quickly resumed, and before he knew it, his homework was forgotten, lost somewhere in the back of his mind as the conversation shifted to the Quidditch World Cup coming up that summer, and he was made to recount his experiences at the last one, when he and his family had gone to Patagonia to watch Bulgaria play Brazil.

The week passed faster than he expected, and the next thing he knew, he was walking with the other Slytherin first years out onto one of the lawns, the anticipation of flight making him giddy. He wasn't the only one. Most of the other first years he'd meet could only talk about flying lessons all week, even among the Slytherins where, as Rheia had pointed out, most of them had flown before.

They arrived at the meeting place to find the Gryffindors already there, standing on the opposite side of two rows of broomsticks that had been laid out on the ground. Rose, who was deep in conversation with a first-year girl that Al recognized as Ava Piper, looked up just in time to give him a hesitant smile. He returned it, frowning at the looks of open hostility coming from some of the meaner looking Gryffindors. Judging from the way Leander, Circe, Rheia and Scorpius were glaring back, the feeling must have been mutual. Thankfully, the arrival of the flying coach, Madam Vanity, seemed to put a stop to that. She paced between the lines, looking over the class before quickly matching students up to brooms.

Al stood across from Rose, watching as Madam Vanity walked between the lines one last time, giving them a few final instructions.

"Now," she said. "I know some of you have probably flown before and feel fairly comfortable on broomsticks, but I'm not going to put up with any nonsense from anyone on this first class. You'll do what I say, when I say it, or you can turn in your broom and head right back into the castle. Is that clear?"

Al and the others voiced their assent, and before they knew it, Madam Vanity had them calling their brooms up into their hands. Al's shot into his almost eagerly, as did Leander, Rose, and Scorpius's brooms. A handful of others were having trouble. Tristan's broom hovered slowly up into his hand, as if it was trying to make up its mind about it, and Rheia's broom lifted itself a few inches off the ground before doing a sad little flop and rolling back over. She looked down at it, biting her lip in embarrassment, and tried again. Near the end of the row, Gisela's broom quivered before slowly rising to meet her hand, and she closed her hand around it, looking pale.

Within a few moments, everyone had managed to pick up their brooms, including a stout Gryffindor boy who had tried to pick his broom up off the ground when Madam Vanity wasn't looking.

"Mount up," she said, giving them one last look.

Al sat astride his broom readily, keeping his feet planted on the ground and waiting for further instructions. It was hard, when all he wanted to do was kick off the ground. The broom seemed to hum with energy beneath him, as eager to get back up into the air as he was. He looked over at Rose, seated across from him, and his cousin flashed him a quick smile, the same sort that usually preceded a race. He waited while Madam Vanity moved among them, correcting their grips—apparently Leander's was too ham-fisted, and Rheia was holding on too lightly, as if she was afraid of her broom—before the flying instructor made it back to the end of the line.

"Alright," she said, "On my signal, we'll kick off the ground and try hovering in place. Students have gotten injured here in the past, so do this step _slowly_. Ready? One. Two. _Three."_

At the count of three, Al kicked off the ground, letting the broom rise a few feet. There were some startled shouts as others did the same, first-time flyers struggling to hold onto their brooms, but nothing bad happened. Madam Vanity had them hover and land a handful of times to get them used to the sensation, then finally gave them some freedom to fly around and try maneuvers themselves, provided, of course, that they stayed within a few feet of the ground. The lines dispersed into a cloud of slow-flying students, like a swarm of incredibly lazy flies, and Al floated his broom sedately over towards Rose, drawing up beside her.

"Nice day for flying, isn't it?" he said, looking up at the cloudless sky.

Rose grinned in reply, shaking her long red hair out of her face. "The wind's nice," she said. "Kind of makes me wish we could go a little higher."

"Right?" Al said, looking up at the sky.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madam Vanity pass them, shooting towards Ava Piper who had a death grip on her broom. James had been telling all sorts of stories about how he'd flown laps around the others his first flying lesson at Hogwarts, but Al wasn't seeing how that was possible now, unless James had spent the next several nights in detention. Still, it felt great being on a broom again, even if they couldn't fly very far. He turned towards Rose, about to tell her so, but looked up sharply, as something blurred at the edge of his vision, a crash resounding from the other side of the lawn.

His eyes widened, and he zipped over there to have a closer look. A pair of students were lying on the ground in a tangle of limbs, both Slytherins. Rheia Carran, still unsteady on her broom, had swung wide and collided, it looked like, straight into Scorpius Malfoy. The former was already beginning to sit up, her face burning with embarrassment as Madam Vanity leaped off her broom and moved to help Scorpius.

Scorpius's pale face was even paler than usual, and he was gritting his teeth in pain, one of his hands wrapped tight around his arm. Al dismounted quickly, Rose behind him. The two of them hurried to join the knot of concerned students clustered around the scene.

"Let me see that, Mr. Malfoy, let me see," Madam Vanity said, leaning over Scorpius and frowning at the arm. Her brow furrowed in concern as Scorpius pulled away from her, keeping the arm clasped close to himself. "Might have broken something…" she muttered. "You should go to the hospital wing."

"Scorpius—," Rheia began, her eyes wide. She cast them around the crowd, looking past Scorpius at Circe and Gisela, who had gotten off their brooms and were watching with concern from behind him. "I—I didn't mean—."

Scorpius turned towards her, gray eyes narrowed into a glare. "You'd think, Carran, that a witch from a _pureblood_ family would know how to control a broomstick."

Rheia gasped, shrinking back as if she had been burned. A wave of angry muttering passed through the crowd, and from somewhere to Al's right, Leander bristled.

"Now, wait just a minute, Malfoy—," he began, fists clenched, but Tristan, sensing trouble, quickly stepped in front of him to block his path.

Scorpius ignored him, getting to his feet. "I can walk to the hospital wing myself," he said, eyeing the crowd with some hostility.

"I don't doubt that," said Madam Vanity, "But you better go with him, Mr. Lynch. Just in case. I'm not sure we need any more accidents."

Tristan's eyes widened, but he nodded quickly, falling into step beside Scorpius. The rest of them watched, stunned into silence, as the two figures disappeared into the castle. Madam Vanity turned towards Rheia when they had faded from sight.

"Are you hurt at all, Miss Carran?" she asked. "If you're not, we should continue with the lesson. The rest of you, back on your brooms. I still have twenty minutes to whip you into shape."

Al swung himself back onto his broom, staring morosely at the spot on the ground where the accident had happened. Beside him, Rose quickly mounted up and kicked off the ground, rising a few feet into the air. She frowned in the direction that Scorpius and Tristan had disappeared off to.

"How mean…" she said, pursing her lips in disapproval. "I don't know how you can stand sharing a dormitory with that Malfoy, Al."

Al said nothing, rising up into the air beside her. He wasn't sure about it, but he thought he had seen something in the moment before the Rheia and Scorpius collided, something that had caught his eye. A second before impact, Rheia Carran _was_ swaying unsteadily on her broom, but it wasn't Scorpius that she was about to swing into. Scorpius had been several feet away, moving in a lazy set of figure eights when Rheia first began to move.

No, Al thought, increasingly certain. Rheia hadn't been anywhere _near_ a collision course with Scorpius.

But she _had_ been about to slam right into Gisela Flynn.

* * *

"Don't know why you're so worked up about it," said Dominique Weasley, in the middle of an increasingly tense game of Exploding Snap with Molly and Freddie. "People get injured in flying class all the time. You should ask Professor Longbottom to tell you about _his_ first flying class. If you ask me, Malfoy breaking an arm is just karma."

"He could have been _nicer_ about it, though," said Rose, frowning as she paged angrily through the book she was reading. "He didn't have to be so mean. That poor girl was almost in tears."

"Reckon it's pretty hard to be nice when your arm's been broken, though," said Freddie, quickly tapping on the deck with his wand as a pair of identical cards showed up.

"Well, I guess that's true," Rose muttered, frowning down at her textbook. "But _still_."

"If you ask _me_ ," said Molly, which clearly nobody had, "Flying classes are just too dangerous in general. Half the students in the school don't need them, and those that do should just get one-on-one coaching. It's much safer. _Oh!"_

The last exclamation was accompanied by a puff of smoke and a crack as the deck exploded loudly, causing Freddie and Dominique to draw back. Molly coughed, waving some of the smoke away from her face. Al frowned from where he was also looking through his homework, saying nothing.

It had been a sunny day, so Al had found himself taking his things and going out to work on homework by the lake. On the way there, he and Rose had run into Molly and Freddie, which had somehow led to them finding Dominique playing a game of solitaire under one of the trees that ringed the lake. They'd gone to sit with her, and Dom hadn't chased them away.

Dominique was in her fifth year and older than all of them, but Al liked her. She didn't seem to think she was too 'cool' to spend time with her younger cousins, which Al privately thought was because Dominique was cool enough that she just didn't care what anyone else thought of her. Over the summer, she had dyed bright purple streaks into her long silvery hair that had almost driven Aunt Fleur into fits, but she had taken Al and Rose out for ice cream while they were all shopping for their school things, which, thinking back on it, had probably been because it gave her an excuse to get away from her screaming mother. She broke a lot of rules, and Molly disapproved of her because of that on general principle, but it was widely agreed by both Al and James that among all the Weasley cousins, she was the most 'fun'.

She tapped the cards with her wand as Freddie started pounding on Molly's back, the deck reshuffling itself.

"You're just mad because you fell off your broom," Dom pointed out.

"I did _not_!" said Molly, turning about as red as her hair. "I just—tripped a little, that's all."

"That's not what James said," Freddie said, grinning at her.

"That's because James _lied_ ," said Molly, scowling at Fred.

"Where is James, anyway?" asked Al, looking around.

"Quidditch practice," said Dominique, with a shrug. "Him and Louis both, or did you not notice the gaggle of girls making their way to the Quidditch pitch?" She rolled her eyes, clearly not amused by her brother's popularity as she flicked her wand, directing the deck to settle back onto the ground to start another game. "Honestly, between James's bragging, Louis's _admirers_ , and Victoire's endless 'Head Girl'-ing, I'm beginning to think you had the right idea, Al."

She gave him a wink.

* * *

Al slipped off to the Slytherin common room quickly after dinner, the Potions essay he and Rose had been working on still fresh on his mind. Rose had until Monday to work on it, but it was due tomorrow for him, and Dom and Freddie had distracted him with another game of Exploding Snap before he could finish it. He only had a few more inches left to write on Potions though. If he hurried, he could get it done early and still have time to rest tonight.

He rounded the corner that led to the entrance to the dungeons, well ahead of the other members of his year, and paused as he noticed someone coming towards the dungeons from another corridor. It was Scorpius, rubbing at his freshly-healed arm. He frowned at Al as he caught sight of him, quickening his stride.

Al took a deep breath and hurried to catch up, drawing up beside him.

"Scorpius," he said.

Scorpius didn't look up.

"I know what you did!"

 _That_ made Scorpius pause, looking over his shoulder at Al. He slowed but didn't stop, continuing to walk towards the Slytherin common room. "What are you talking about, Potter?" he asked.

Al took a deep breath. "I know that you were just trying to help Gisela," he said. "I saw it happen. The whole thing."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Scorpius, but he looked away, the frown on his face as telling as if he had admitted it outright. "Carran crashed into me. Everyone saw it. For all of her bragging, she can't even fly a broom in a straight line." He snorted in derision.

Al persisted. "But she wasn't going to hit _you_ ," he said. "She was going to hit _Gisela_. I don't know why you don't just _tell_ people that, instead of letting everyone assume that you're some—some kind of git who doesn't care."

"I _don't_ care, Potter," said Scorpius, coming to a stop in front of the wall that led into the common room and turning to face Al. "Why would I care about some—some Muggle-born girl? And for the last time, can you _stop_ talking to me? I'm not your friend. I'm never going to _be_ your friend! Do you understand? _Salazar."_ The last was said as an afterthought, directed to the wall behind them. It opened with a soft hiss, and Al followed Scorpius into the common room, scarcely aware of the other Slytherins beginning to file in around them, coming from dinner.

"I don't understand _why_ ," said Al. "I mean, you're not a bad person. So why do you insist on making everyone _think_ that you are? It doesn't make any sense!"

"How do you know I'm not a bad person?" Scorpius challenged. "You don't know anything about me. You don't know anything about Carran, or Nott or Lynch or Rosier or whoever it is you hang around with. You don't know anything about any of this. You just _think_ you understand things, and that's what makes you so insufferable! You _think_ you know everything, but you don't, and I'm not going to get sucked into your little fantasy—"

The two of them were cut off as a high-pitched screech reverberated through the common room, coming from one of the girls' dormitories. Al ran towards it without thinking, his heart jumping into his throat. He threw open the door, heedless of the fact that Scorpius was running behind him, wand out.

The two of them drew to a stop, staring at the scene in front of them.

Circe stood with her back to them, facing the room, her hands on Gisela's shoulders. Gisela was trembling. The room in front of them looked like any other dormitory room, except for the fact that one of the beds had been destroyed, the curtains slashed and burned with magic, the silk sheets torn apart, and the stuffing ripped out of the pillows and yanked viciously out of the mattress. Scrawled over the bed, in red paint and big block letters, were the words:

GO HOME, MUDBLOOD.

YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE.


	4. Leaders and Followers

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews! Not much to say here other than things are starting to pick up. Enjoy the chapter!

 **Review Responses:**

 **The Three Stoogies,** thanks, glad you like it!

 **jddmn13,** thanks for the review! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

 **MaxineCrazy,** thanks for the review! With regards to pairings, I do have some planned for later down the line (if I get to writing other fics in the series) but for this particular fic, there won't be a pairing, because the characters are so young that it really doesn't make much sense. Hope you enjoy the fic (or fics) regardless though!

 **Em-Wing,** thanks! Glad you liked it, and nice to see you here from my _Soul Eater_ fic~

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize the name/can find it in the Harry Potter Wiki, it's not mine.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

 **Leaders and Followers**

* * *

Circe whirled around to face them as they stood there dumbly, Scorpius's wand still clutched loosely in his hand. She stared at them, eyes wide in anger and surprise.

"What are _you_ doinghere?!" she screeched. "This is the girls' dormitory! There's supposed to be a charm!"

Before Al could even ask her what she meant, footsteps thundered from the hall outside, making them jump. An older girl burst into the room, brown hair flying wildly around her and eyes blazing. Al choked as he recognized Tacita Aldridge, a sixth-year Slytherin and one of the meanest prefects that Hogwarts had to offer.

"What's going on here?" Tacita demanded, whirling onto them. "Why are there boys in the girls' dormitory?" But before she could even get started on questioning them, her eyes were drawn to the mess strewn about the dormitory room, to the wreckage that had been Gisela's bed. Her eyes slid past Al and Scorpius, landing on Circe, whose hands were still resting on the shoulders of a shivering Gisela.

Al took the opportunity to take a discreet step towards the doorway. Wordlessly, Scorpius did the same.

A crowd had gathered in the doorway to the dormitory, mostly girls, but here and there, Al caught sight of a few hesitant boys, carefully squeezing their way into the crowd, trying to stay unnoticed while still catching a glimpse into the room. Tacita's eyes moved over them, narrowing, and Al could have sworn he saw the crowd take a collective step back.

"Everyone out," Tacita said, although he noticed that she didn't shout it this time, likely because Gisela looked close to tears. "If I see a _single_ boy in this dormitory when I turn back around, heads are going to roll. Take Flynn and Rosier with you, Potter, Malfoy. And someone send for Stonecroft."

The crowd scattered. Al, who had been halfway to the door, paused to let Gisela and Circe catch up. The few remaining Slytherins clustered around the entrance to the dormitory parted to let them through, and Gisela wrapped her arms tightly around herself, white as a ghost. Behind her, Circe had her mouth clamped tightly shut, as though it was taking all of her effort not to start screaming again.

Noah Dennell was waiting for them in the common room, looking pale. When they emerged from the entrance to the girls' dormitories, he stood up from the armchair he had been sitting in, turning to face them.

"I've just sent for Professor Stonecroft," he said. "The three of you should sit down and wait for him. I expect it's been quite the shock. Would any of you like some tea?" He wet his lips with his tongue, looking nervously at the entrance to the dormitory. A shiver passed through him, but Al barely noticed. His mind had snagged onto something Noah had said, and now he looked up, his eyes moving over the people with him.

 _Three._

Somehow, Scorpius had broken away from them, disappearing into the crowd. The only people with him now were Circe and Gisela.

* * *

Gisela started crying a few minutes before Professor Stonecroft actually arrived, soft, whimpering sobs that made it sound like she was trying very hard to keep herself quiet. Circe fluttered around her with a handkerchief, frantically trying to make herself useful, and nearly elbowed Noah in the gut when he approached them bearing two large mugs of tea. The common room had settled into a sort of hush, packed to the rafters with quiet, expectant Slytherins.

Al looked around, recognizing that despite the number of people that had filtered into the common room to wait, this wasn't the whole House. There seemed to be an equal split between those that had wanted to wait out in the open for Stonecroft to see what would happen next and those that had scented trouble and gone into hiding. He caught sight of Tristan and Leander huddled near the doorway to their dormitory, looking miserable, and Morpheus Selwyn lounging in one of the long couches near the fire, his array of third and second-year followers arranged around him like dark ravens. Blond little Rheia Carran was talking softly to an older girl who stood with her back against one of the walls, arms folded. She had the same blond hair and delicate features as Rheia, and Al guessed that that had to have been Parthenia, Rheia's seventh-year sister.

He frowned, remembering the events of today's flying class, but Rheia had been at dinner with the rest of them. He had seen her there, seated across the table from Leander, Tristan and himself, and, as Circe continued to insist to anyone who would listen, she and Gisela had been in the dormitory until just _before_ dinner and the room had been fine then.

Whoever had done this had to have done it while they were at dinner.

They waited in near-silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire, the lapping of the lake water against the glass, and hushed murmurs rising from a few pockets of conversation around the room. It could only have been a few minutes until Professor Stonecroft arrived, sweeping into the common room with another prefect, a girl from Noah's year, quick at his heels, but it had felt like much longer. He moved past where Tacita stood guard at the entrance to the girls' dormitory, his expression grim, and she fell into step behind him.

"He's really angry," Al said, when it seemed safe to speak.

"Who? Stonecroft?" asked Noah, looking up.

Al nodded. Noah looked grim.

"He hates this," Noah said. "I mean, really hates this. Nothing gets him more riled up than when students start poking at each other over blood purity. I'm half-blood myself—I mean _really_ half-blood," he added, when Al opened his mouth, "—Muggle mother, and Stonecroft practically saved my first couple of years at Hogwarts. They say it's because of the war."

"The war?" Al asked.

Noah looked around the room to see if it was still safe to speak, then lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Now this is just a rumor, Albus, so don't go spreading it around, but they say that Professor Stonecroft had a half-blood girlfriend about when he graduated Hogwarts. When the war broke out, they—they tortured her. They say he never got over it."

Al felt himself pale at Noah's words, his stomach souring, but he nodded quickly, falling silent as Professor Stonecroft emerged from the dormitory.

The Transfiguration professor's expression was even darker than it had been when he had gone in. In soft, quiet tones, he told the prefects to gather everyone into the common room, and within minutes the Slytherin common room seemed packed almost to capacity as the students who had tried to wait it out into their bedrooms were ushered into the room. Al spotted Scorpius making his way out of the boy's dormitory, edging along one wall and staying as far away from Al and company as possible as he eyed Professor Stonecroft warily. He didn't look at all surprised. In fact, he looked as though he had been expecting something like this to happen all along.

"I'm very disappointed that this has happened here," Professor Stonecroft said in hushed tones, once they were all gathered. Al realized with a jolt that the professor didn't look surprised either, only resigned. "Most of you have heard me lecture on this subject before, but for our newer students—and for those who _clearly_ need to hear it again—let me repeat myself. Slytherin House once had a reputation for greatness, for intelligence, for resourcefulness, for the sheer _audacity_ to do the unexpected, to challenge the impossible. But the House that was once the home of Merlin himself has been turned into a House of traitors and thieves, of filth who would rather stab each other in the back over the purity of their bloodlines than rise from the ashes of what was to become something greater than we were before. You know what they say about us outside of these walls, and when things like this happen, when we do things like this to _one of our own_ , we prove them right. If we will not learn from our history, we are destined to repeat it. That is all."

He went on to state that whoever had done this would be caught, that the culprit or culprits would be punished severely, but Al was barely listening at that point. Feeling a little sick to his stomach, he looked around the room, looked at the other Slytherins as if seeing them for the first time. _Other_ Slytherins, the other members of _his_ House. One of them had done this, he realized, taking in Noah's pale face, Rheia's nervousness, Scorpius's resignation and Morph's bored expression. One or more of them had gone after Gisela, might still go after Gisela.

Just because she was Muggle-born, just because she wasn't like them.

He thought about Professor Stonecroft's half-blood girlfriend, remembered all of the stories he had heard from the war, everything his parents had told him and a few that they hadn't.

Suddenly, he no longer felt so proud to be a Slytherin.

* * *

For the next few days, the incident in the girls' dormitory seemed to be the only thing that Slytherin House could talk about. Reactions ranged from outrage, to distrust, to disgusted comments about how Professor Stonecroft was blowing everything out of proportion. The House seemed split into three camps—the people that supported Gisela, the people that thought that maybe the culprit had a point, and the people who just didn't care. Regardless of what camp people saw themselves in, however, discussing the culprit became something of a favored pastime for people. Everyone had their pet theories for who had done it, and as the days wore on, those theories started being steadily distilled down into a few favorites.

An unfortunate side-effect from this was that a lot of the suspicion, particularly among the lower years, started falling on Scorpius Malfoy. It was a generally established truth by now that the culprit had to have been a boy—otherwise why bother disabling the charm that stopped boys from entering the girls' dormitory—and it had to have been done while most of the House was at dinner. Scorpius had missed dinner that day, and while Madam Pomfrey up in the hospital wing was getting on in years, it still didn't take her an entire afternoon to mend a broken bone.

Al didn't believe it, but it seemed as though he was the only one. Scorpius wasn't well-liked, was stand-offish and mean even to the Slytherins in his year, and his father and grandparents had been known Death Eaters. The rumors that his father still kept Dark artifacts at Malfoy Manor quickly spread, and Al noticed the other students in his year making an effort to keep their distance from Scorpius.

There were a handful of people, mostly fourth and fifth years that Al avoided on instinct, who seemed to think this made Scorpius _better_ in their eyes. They started talking to him more, trying to include them in their circles. This did nothing to make Scorpius feel better. If anything, it only seemed to make him more miserable. Al had tried to convince some of the others of what he had seen during flying class, but none of them believed it. After a while of this, Al wasn't entirely convinced he believed it himself.

But Scorpius _had_ come running when they heard Circe's scream, and he had even had his wand out. Al had the suspicion that there was more to this than he could see, but even he wasn't entirely sure what to make of all of it.

To his surprise, Rose seemed to be on Scorpius's side. Al had told her everything that had happened in the handful of days after the incident when he hadn't felt too comfortable confiding in anyone from Slytherin, and she had simply frowned at him over the top of her textbook, brow furrowed in thought, before she grudgingly admitted that Scorpius couldn't have had anything to do with it.

"It's not that I'm defending Malfoy, mind," she said. "But the spells over the entrance to the girls' dormitories are really complex charms. I don't think there's any way a first-year could have tampered with them, even if his family knows something about the Dark Arts."

It wasn't much, but it did make him feel just a little bit better about his own instincts. And his confiding in Rose seemed to have an interesting effect he hadn't predicted, in that Rose now seemed to go out of her way to talk to and befriend Gisela during Astronomy and flying classes. Circe, who had been on the warpath since the break-in, reluctantly eased some of her standards for Rose—who was a Gryffindor, a Weasley and a half-blood, and therefore the farthest possible thing from a threat—and that meant that she was friendlier to Al too, and to Leander and Tristan by extension.

Slowly, Al started to let go of his newly-acquired misgivings and start trusting the people in his year again, although he still found himself wary around the older students. Tristan and Leander seemed genuinely shocked that something like this had happened, and Al found that it was hard to believe that either of them could have done anything like this. Together, the four of them—Tristan, Leander, Circe, and Al himself—formed a sort of protective circle around Gisela, watching and waiting to see if there would be any more attacks.

Still, with days stretching on and no evidence as to who the culprit or culprits might have been, it looked like the only thing any of them could do was wait to see if they tried to strike again.

The break-in and its aftermath hadn't left Al with a lot of House spirit, but with the Quidditch season fast approaching, he had managed to drum up enough to help Leander and Tristan paint a banner for their upcoming match against Gryffindor. It was the morning of the Quidditch match, when they were seated at the Slytherin table putting the finishing touches on the great silver serpent that coiled along the length of their banner, that James approached the Slytherin table, let out a whoop of laughter, and slapped Al's back hard enough to send him falling forward into his bowl of porridge.

"See you on the pitch, Al!" James said as he ran past them, grinning and twirling his wand in his hand.

Al came up spluttering and coughing. When he looked down at their banner, he saw that the serpent they had been painting was now crushed beneath the paws of a roaring Gryffindor lion. Al glowered at his brother as James turned and ran back into the crowd. Leander was glaring at James as well, and beside him, Tristan was looking down at their banner in dismay, a paintbrush still in one hand.

"Al, your brother—," Leander began.

"I know," said Al, scowling as he accepted the napkin Leander had passed him and began to wipe his face. A part of himself was already beginning to envision scenarios of karmic retribution, like James losing Gryffindor the match by falling off his broom. "Believe me. I _know_."

" _Revorisio,"_ said a voice from behind them.

A shimmering silver light settled over the banner. When it faded, the lion was gone, and the Slytherin serpent was once more coiling across the canvas, the way that it had been a few moments ago. He looked over his shoulder to see Lorcan and Lysander Scamander standing there, Lorcan already beginning to put his wand away.

"Did it work?" Lorcan asked, approaching the banner. "Oh, good. I wasn't sure if he had actually changed the banner or was just using some kind of illusion—it was either that or Finite Incantatem."

"That was _brilliant_!" said Leander, staring at Lorcan like he had descended from the heavens. "I couldn't even _think_ of the counter-spell. How did you know how to do that?"

Lorcan glanced away, an embarrassed flush on his face. "It was nothing, really," he said, "Ravenclaw Tower has a lot of spare spellbooks lying around. I just did a little bit of reading…"

"No, that was fantastic!" said Leander, prodding the snake with one finger and earning him a glare from Tristan as he smeared the paint. "It's good as new!"

"I just didn't want James Potter to get away with that," said Lorcan. "It seemed really rude of him. Can we sit?"

"Please," said Al, moving aside to give Lorcan room. The Ravenclaw boy settled into a seat between Al and Leander, whereas Lysander sat down on Leander's other side, poking the snake's tail with his own wand. "You're Lorcan Scamander, aren't you?" Al asked, wanting to make sure he had the name right.

Lorcan nodded. "And you're Al Potter. We have pictures with you, I think, from back when Lysander and I were six."

"I think I remember that," said Al, thinking back. Lorcan's mother had been good friends with Al's parents, but from what he had heard, she traveled a lot. He hadn't seen or heard much from the twins since before Hogwarts.

"Is your grandfather really Newt Scamander?" Tristan asked. "The one who wrote _Fantastic Beasts?"_

"Great-grandfather actually," said Lorcan, "But yes. Actually, I just came by to see how you were doing with that Transfiguration essay. Professor Stonecroft said it was going to be a major part of our grade."

Al's eyes widened, and he quickly exchanged glances with Tristan and Leander. "I—uh, haven't started yet," he said. "You?"

"Are you joking?" Leander asked. "That essay's not due for two weeks!"

Lorcan blinked, looking momentarily surprised that two weeks in advance was not generally considered well-past time to start working on an essay.

"Lorcan's almost finished with it actually," Lysander murmured dreamily from his end of the table, where he was still poking the snake's tail.

"I'm not," Lorcan said, insistently. "Not even close. I'm still going to need to rewrite it when it's done."

"Rewrite it?" Leander asked, looking at Lorcan as if he had grown a second head. "But what's the point, if you've already written it?"

Al, who was used to this sort of thing from Rose, quickly smoothed things over by promising Lorcan that when he had started working on his essay, he would let him know. That seemed to mollify him, and Lorcan and Lysander left the table with a promise to cheer for Slytherin during the match. Leander stared after Lorcan as he left, as though he still couldn't believe it.

"Writing essays twice," he muttered under his breath. "Am I glad I'm not in Ravenclaw..."

"They seemed nice, though," said Tristan, turning back around to face the table. "Although that other boy seemed a little strange, poking at our banner like that— _whoa_!"

Al and Leander whirled around immediately at Tristan's exclamation, looking back down at the banner.

The snake, which up until that moment had been a stationary, painted serpent, was now moving.

* * *

It was on their way to the Quidditch pitch, with Tristan carefully carrying the now-animated banner in his arms and Leander talking excitedly about how Slytherin would win the Quidditch Cup this year, that Al caught sight of Professor Stonecroft walking briskly along a side corridor, his expression stern. Trailing along behind him was Parthenia Carran, Rheia's older sister. The sight piqued his curiosity, and he quickly drew to a stop, waving Tristan and Leander on ahead.

"I'll catch up," he said, when they stopped to argue. "Save a seat for me!"

Before the two of them could protest, he ducked down the side corridor, following Professor Stonecroft. He and Parthenia walked until they reached a deserted corridor, and stopped at the end of it, talking together in low voices. Al, who was hiding around the corner, and who was much too far away to hear what was being said, only knew that Parthenia looked defensive, and that Stonecroft looked on the verge of anger. He waited as long as he dared, but when the two of them showed no signs of leaving or raising their voices, realized that he was pushing his luck and quickly made his way out to the Quidditch pitch. By the time he arrived, the Slytherin side of the stands was crowded, and he couldn't see Tristan or Leander anywhere.

He did, however, see Morph Selwyn. The third-year boy waved Al over when he saw him wandering around aimlessly, gesturing at the seat next to him, which one of his lackeys quickly vacated.

"Lost something, Al?" Morph asked.

"My friends, actually," Al said. "You haven't seen them, have you?"

"Lynch and Nott? They're up by the front," said Morph, gesturing through the crowd at the group of Slytherins gathered around the railing. "Wanted to get a good view."

"Thanks," said Al, about to turn, then hesitated. There were rumors about Morph too, rumors that he knew more about the school and about his fellow Slytherins than any third-year had a right to. His mind flashed back to Parthenia and Stonecroft, and the question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Hey, Morph…what do you know about Parthenia Carran?"

"Carran?" asked Morph, frowning as he considered the question. "She's a leader."

"Sorry?" Al asked, not understanding.

"The way I see it, there're two types of Slytherins," said Morph, shrugging. "Leaders—the ones with the vision, the grand ideas, the schemes—and followers, the ones who sense that sort of thing and cluster around them. Your friend Nott, for example: classic follower. Passionate and solid, but probably never had an original thought in his life. It's not just Slytherins. It plays out this way in other Houses too, of course, but Slytherins have it especially strong. Carran's a leader. She has all the qualities of one, which makes her especially interesting, because I have no idea who her followers are."

The way he said it seemed to say that it wasn't often that Morph had no idea about anything. Al frowned, absorbing that.

"Why do you ask?" Morph asked, eyeing him.

"Oh—um—her sister's in our year, so I was just wondering," said Al quickly, dancing around the subject of Parthenia and Stonecroft. Morph's frown told him that he didn't really believe it, but he simply nodded, turning his attention back to the pitch.

"If you're going to sit with your friends, you should go," he said. "Game's starting soon."

Al nodded, about to leave. He had made it a step before a thought struck him and he turned, looking back at Morph.

"Uh—Morph?"

Morph looked up, meeting his eyes.

"You said Slytherins are all either leaders or followers," said Al, already feeling embarrassed about asking the question. "Which one am I?"

To his surprise, Morph smiled. It wasn't an entirely pleasant smile. It was a little predatory, a little too much like a smirk. "I don't know yet," he said. "That's why I've got my eye on you."

Al nodded quickly at that, not sure how to react. He felt apprehension start to blossom somewhere inside of him, in the pit of his stomach. "Well, thanks for the help," he said, turning around quickly and heading down to the front to join his friends.

"Anytime, Al," he heard Morph say as he moved, the third-year settling back into his seat. "Anytime."


	5. The Dueling Club Returns

**A/N:** This chapter was a little hard to write, because it contains my first attempt at a Harry Potter fight scene. I had to make up a lot of spells and charms, so I hope you don't mind too much. Thanks for the reviews and support!

 **Review Responses:**

 **The Three Stoogies,** thanks, I'm glad you liked the chapter! You'll figure out Al fairly soon, possibly within the next few chapters actually! Enjoy!

 **BuzzyBeeForever,** Morph _is_ very sketch, so I can't really blame you there, lol. Glad you enjoy the chapter and thank you for the reviews!

 **jddmn13,** absolutely! I've been meaning to include it, but I keep running out of space in the chapters. I've rectified it a bit this chapter, but don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot more of her later on!

 **clarionette,** thanks! I'm glad you enjoy the story and the characters. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If you recognize the name/can find it in the Harry Potter Wiki, it's not mine.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

 **The Dueling Club Returns**

* * *

It was a rout.

Despite the Slytherin team's best efforts, James Sirius Potter caught the snitch in a blaze of glory and triumph, winning the game for Gryffindor and making Al start to think that there wasn't all that much justice in the world. Even Leander was forced to admit that despite James' rather obvious personality flaws, he was, objectively, 'a bloody good Seeker'. Still, Al thought, it wouldn't have been so bad if James didn't seize the opportunity to brag about it each time he saw Al or one of his friends. It looked as if his brother had gotten over his earlier concern about Al being in Slytherin, and had gone back to business as usual, which was to make Al's life as difficult as possible.

Not that James needed to help on that score. The incident in the girls' dormitory was still digging its cold fingers into every aspect of Al's daily life, and the weeks wearing on without a culprit or even a suspect only seemed to sour Professor Stonecroft's mood. He was half-convinced that the Slytherin Head of House had given them extra homework in Transfiguration class out of pure spite, despite the fact that Gisela was in their year and Al was decently sure that Stonecroft didn't actually think Scorpius had been responsible.

It was a state of affairs that Circe didn't waste any time commenting on during Herbology class directly afterwards, when she, Al, and Gisela were pruning singing nettles together. The plants, which made a very nice humming sound when prodded, needed to be kept in tune so that their leaves could be used to brew Canoricalix, a potion that would grant the drinker perfect pitch. Al had been working on his portion of the plant with a pair of delicate gardening shears, trying in vain to find the plant's off-key leaves and branches so that he could snip them off, when Circe made a disgusted noise, slamming her own shears down onto the workbench. Al looked up, startled, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but Leander and Tristan, who were working on their own plant, seemed not to notice, nor did Scorpius and Rheia. Professor Longbottom, who at that moment had been prodding at Scorpius and Rheia's plant with his wand, scratching his head and trying to work out why the plant had curled in on itself and now stubbornly refused to sing, didn't even glance in their direction.

"...Circe?" Gisela ventured, sounding concerned.

"I understand why he's angry, but that doesn't give him the right to take it out on us!" Circe said, hardly needing the prompting. "And—and—."

She stared down at the tabletop, and Al was startled to see her eyes mist over with something that looked like tears. Her hands tightened around the handle of the gardening shears, her knuckles turning white.

Al blinked at her. "Everything alright?"

Circe sucked in a breath and looked up, as if surprised to see the two of them there. She shook her head and the tension left her, her hand releasing its white-knuckled grip on the gardening shears. She seemed to deflate in that moment, as if whatever it was that she had been angry about had also been keeping her upright.

"Oh," she said, pushing her dark curls out of her face. "Oh—it's not—it's nothing, I'm just upset. At Stonecroft, that is. I mean, aren't you?"

"Sure," said Al, exchanging a glance with Gisela. The other girl's bewildered expression told him that she had no clue what this was about either. "Sure, it's unfair. Um, are you sure you're—"

"Alright? Of course I'm alright," said Circe, straightening up and wiping her grimy hands off onto her robes. "I think this plant needs more fertilizer though. Just—just give me a moment. I'll be right back."

She turned around without a word, making her way over to the supply cabinet. Al and Gisela watched her go, puzzled. From its place between them, the singing nettle made a sort of half-hearted warble, its many branches struggling to produce a clear chord. Al looked down sharply, having almost forgotten that the plant was there. He had just picked up his own gardening shears again when Gisela spoke, turning towards him.

"She's been like this since breakfast," she said, her voice soft. "A letter from her family."

"Her family?" Al asked, thinking back to what he knew. His dad didn't really like to bring Auror business home, but he thought he had heard him and his Uncle Ron mentioning something about the Rosiers, once or twice.

Gisela nodded gravely, picking up her own shears and poking at the plant's branches to get them to sing. Al, studying her clearly now for the first time, noticed that she looked fairly miserable, her face pale enough beneath her light brown hair that every freckle was visible. He wondered if she was getting enough sleep.

"Are you...alright?" Al asked, not sure what else to say. "I mean, with everything that's been going on?"

"I'm fine," Gisela said, sounding glum. "I mean, how can I not be? Circe looks out for me. I just..." She drew in a deep breath, cutting off one of the branches with a resounding _snik._ "I wish she didn't have to. She'll never say so, but it's hard on her. It's probably hard on everyone..."

Al opened his mouth to say that he didn't mind helping her and that he was fairly certain that no one else minded either, but Gisela beat him to it, running her hands carefully through the plant's branches and coaxing them into singing again. Over the clear note produced by that section of the plant, she said, "Rheia asked me the other day why the hat put me in Slytherin. How am I supposed to know? I've been wondering the same thing myself...lately. When I got Sorted, I still didn't understand everything. I didn't know anything about any of the Houses, about all—of this. I just—wanted to belong somewhere. That's all I wanted."

She fell silent, distraught. Al stared at her, grasping for the words to say. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that no one really understood why they were Sorted the way they were.

Except that would have been a lie. He knew exactly why he had ended up in Slytherin.

 _I have a suggestion to make, young Potter..._

He had waited too long. He knew it the moment Gisela's shoulders slumped, her eyes dropping back to the workbench. "And here I am bothering you with this," she said. "I really am just a burden on everyone. Maybe they're right—whoever they are. Maybe I _don't_ belong in Slytherin..."

"No, Gisela—," Al began, but before he could even start to say anything to her, Circe reappeared at the table, a small bag of fertilizer clutched in her hands.

"Sorry I took so long," she said, plopping it onto the table with a sort of finality that called an end to any conversation between them. "It took me a moment to find what I was looking for. What did I miss?"

* * *

He was still thinking about Circe and Gisela when they were making their way back from their dormitory to the Great Hall for lunch, and would have walked right past the crowd assembled around the bulletin board in the entrance hall had it not been for Tristan and Leander, who had grabbed him by the arms and drawn him to a stop, calling his attention to it. The group that stood around the board were mostly from the lower years, although there were a few older students mixed in among them, all talking excitedly among themselves.

"What do you think is going on?" Tristan asked, frowning at the crowd.

"I don't know," Leander said. "But hey, isn't that Lorcan Scamander over there? We should go see."

Al didn't have any real objections to that, so the three of them shouldered their way to the front of the crowd, where, as Leander pointed out, Lorcan Scamander was studying a large poster. It was that poster that had very clearly captured the crowd's attention, set up in a section of the board that had been given over to extracurricular activities.

 **THE HOGWARTS DUELING CLUB**

 **is now taking beginners.**

 _ **Meetings are Tuesday and Thursday evenings in the Great Hall.**_

 _ **Please see Prof. A. Stonecroft or Prof. E. Belrose for details.**_

 _ **Interested students welcome!**_

 _ **First and Second years: You are welcome to learn spells and forms, but be advised that only students in their third year and above are permitted to spar.**_

 **Sincerely,**

 **Victoire Weasley, Head Girl, Dueling Club President**

 **Parthenia Carran, Dueling Club Vice-President**

"Oh, right," Al said. "I remember Victoire talking about the Dueling Club. I think a bunch of my cousins are in it too."

"Al, you have cousins in _everything_ ," Leander pointed out.

Al chose not to reply, since it was mostly true. He went back to studying the notice, as did the others.

"...Well, it sounds like it's worth checking out," said Leander after a while. "Do you think we'll actually get to duel anyone?"

Tristan shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "Look right here, it says that first and second years are only going to be allowed to learn spells. I don't think we'll get to practice."

"Still might be fun," said Leander, glancing over at Lorcan. "What about you, Scamander? You look interested."

Interested seemed to be a bit of an understatement, in Al's opinion. Lorcan was looking at the notice with a sort of quiet intensity, like he wanted to take it apart and put it back together again. He looked up at Leander's words, as if startled to hear someone actually speaking to him.

"I—yes," he said, after a while. "I'd be interested. Are you three going as well, then?"

"I'm going," said Leander, frowning as he looked back at the two of them. "How about you, Al?"

"I think I'll come along as well," Al said. "It sounds interesting."

But it wasn't the dueling he was particularly interested in, he thought, as he studied the poster. His eyes kept getting drawn to the signatures at the bottom of it, to the name that stood just below Victoire's.

Parthenia Carran.

* * *

Al showed up at the Great Hall just a little after dinner on Tuesday night, accompanied by Leander, Tristan, Gisela and Circe. Rose, who had seemed interested in the idea when Al mentioned it to her, met them there. Al noticed that while she still eyed Tristan and Leander with some amount of distrust, she seemed to have relaxed quite a bit around the Slytherin girls, and that before long, she, Circe and Gisela were talking up a storm, mostly about some band that Al wasn't sure he had heard of before now.

The six of them filed into the Great Hall together, and were quickly directed over towards Professor Belrose, who was seated at a small table that had been placed near the entrance. The Hall's four great tables had been pushed aside to the outer walls, clearing a large space in the center of the room. As Al watched, a group of older students waved their wands, laying down lines on the floor that seemed to mark off some sort of field. The Hall was already beginning to fill with students, most of them third years and older, and Al and his friends clustered closer together, somewhat intimidated.

Professor Belrose, however, quickly put them at ease. The Charms professor offered each of them a warm smile as they approached, as if they were doing nothing more than walking into Charms class on a normal, autumn afternoon.

"Let's see...it's Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott, Mr. Lynch, Miss Flynn, Miss Rosier, and...Miss Weasley, isn't it?" he asked, writing their names, years, and Houses down on the piece of parchment spread in front of him. "Welcome to the Dueling Club. We start beginners off quite slowly, so there's no need for concern. You'll be working with me today, once we get everyone settled. In the meantime, you're free to wander around, or wait with the other beginners in that corner."

He directed them towards a group of people that were seated at one end of one of the Great Hall's long benches, then turned to deal with the group waiting behind them. Al turned to go in that direction, Leander and Tristan falling in beside him and the girls trailing behind.

" _Belrose_ is going to teach us?" Leander asked, once they were out of earshot. "I never really marked him for much of a duelist."

"Shows what you know," Circe hissed from behind them, her voice still somehow managing to carry despite the fact that she was whispering. "Professor Belrose fought in the Wizarding War! They say he's an accomplished duelist, although he doesn't like doing it anymore. He and Professor Stonecroft founded this club together."

" _Re-_ founded it, I think," Rose said. "Although to hear my dad talk about it, what happened with Lockhart hardly counts."

"If he doesn't like doing it, why teach it?" Leander murmured. He was frowning, although it was clear that Circe's rebuke had embarrassed him.

"He probably thinks it's important to learn self-defense after everything that happened," Tristan mused, looking around at the room.

"Um, sorry," Gisela said, looking up. "Everyone keeps talking about the war, but I'm not sure I understand. I mean, I know it happened before we were born, but..."

Leander and Circe looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. Even Tristan seemed subdued, although he wasn't possessed by the sudden, inescapable urge to study his own shoes. He looked back at Gisela, his expression grim. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough."

"You can ask Al and Rose," Leander said, his tone uncharacteristically sharp. "I'm sure they'd be happy to tell you."

"Maybe later," Al said, before Gisela could ask. It didn't seem like the right place or time to bring that up, especially considering the reactions of the people around them. A glance at Rose told him that she felt the same way.

Thankfully, the heavy mood that had settled over them was lifted somewhat when they reached the other beginners, and Lorcan came up to them. The Ravenclaw boy wore his usual reserved expression, but seemed more animated and excited than usual, so that he was almost smiling.

"Some of the other Ravenclaws from my year are here," Lorcan said, gesturing at a small group of first years that sat clustered together around the end of the bench. He looked quizzically at Rose. "Is it just you? I would have thought you wouldn't be able to keep the Gryffindors away from something like this."

"The others are probably coming later," Rose said. "I came a little bit early."

"Hmm," said Lorcan, his eyes moving over the room.

"How've you been, Lorcan?" Al asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

"Alright, I suppose," said Lorcan, turning towards him. "Things have been fairly quiet lately, although Mum and Dad are talking about making another trip out to South America, so we might be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break. Yourself?"

"Fine," said Al, wondering if there was any point to telling Lorcan about Slytherin House's own internal struggles. Probably not. There wasn't much that the Ravenclaw could actually _do_ about it, and for some strange reason, it felt like a betrayal, like letting Lorcan know where Slytherin House was weak would give any Ravenclaws who meant less than well an opening that they didn't need.

Professor Stonecroft was right, Al thought miserably. It wasn't as if Slytherin enjoyed a stellar reputation these days.

"Lysander isn't with you?" Rose asked, frowning at Lorcan.

Lorcan shook his head. "He isn't interested in things like this," he said, his tone making it sound as though he wasn't particularly upset about that development.

"Speaking of brothers," Leander began, "Don't look now, Al, but _your_ brother's here."

"Joy," said Al, glancing in that direction anyway.

Sure enough, James was there, accompanied by a group of Gryffindor third-years. Molly Weasley was conspicuously absent, but Louis, Victoire, and Dominique were all there, Dominique leaning against a wall surrounded by a group of her friends while Victoire busied herself with walking around the room, going from student to student and speaking to them, and occasionally reporting in to Professor Stonecroft. Louis was standing with some of his friends as well, laughing with them while a group of girls looked on admiringly from a distance.

He caught sight of Parthenia Carran standing a little ways apart from the others, apparently busy with laying down the field and casting protective spells around the perimeter. Al frowned at her, remembering Morph's words. She didn't seem to be particularly close to anyone.

"Alright there, Al?" Freddie Weasley asked, walking up to them and jolting Al out of his contemplations. He turned towards his cousin, who plopped down onto the bench with a grin, settling back against the long table behind him. "I was in this club last year, but they don't let second-years join the fun either," he said, gesturing at James and the older students, who were clustered around the field. Al noticed that they seemed to be getting started now, Professor Stonecroft standing in the center of the group and calling them to order.

Before Al could say anything about that, Professor Belrose approached them, the roll of parchment in his hand. The first and second years, and some of the older students who had just joined the Dueling Club, drew in close around him.

"Welcome again," he said. "As you may have surmised, some of our more experienced students are going to be working on sparring today. You've joined the Dueling Club at a very exciting time—the International Dueling Federation has agreed to open up an inter-school branch of their annual tournament, and Hogwarts is planning on fielding a team. The members of that team will be chosen from our more senior students at the end of the year, but don't worry! We expect that this will be an annual opportunity, so if you find that dueling is your passion, there will be many more chances to participate in events like this in your future. Let's begin with the basics. One of the most important, and easily overlooked aspects of dueling is your stance, so we'll begin there. Everyone take out your wands..."

For the next several minutes, Belrose worked with them on stance and grip, adjusting their postures and showing them the most efficient way to hold one's wand out so that they were ready to react to anything and difficult to disarm. He walked around the room making corrections, and once each of them had their stance down to something acceptable, shifted the lesson towards basic countercurses. He worked them through the basics of a Deflecting Charm, a simpler yet less-effective version of a Shield Charm, and then had them practice it in controlled conditions, having them line up and take turns deflecting minor jinxes that he sent their way.

Al, caught up in laughing from an attack of the Tickling Curse that he hadn't been able to deflect, looked up to see the brightly colored ball of light that had been hurled at Rose bounce off of her perfect Deflecting Charm, slamming into the net of protective spells and wards that surrounded the room before dispersing into mist. They went on that way for some time, and while the spells and lessons were exciting in their own way, their section of the Dueling Club didn't feel all that different from an extra Defense Against the Dark Arts class, especially not when compared to the shouts of triumph and exultation and the sound of spell clashing against spell that came from the other side of the room.

The highlight of the evening happened about an hour into their practice, when Professor Belrose called a halt to their latest exercise and invited them over to the other side of the room to watch a spar between two of the older students. Al, who at this point would have been excited to see _any_ actual dueling, felt his heart leap with excitement when he realized who the combatants were. One of them, standing poised on her end of the field with her wand in her hand, was his eldest cousin Victoire, her long red hair tied in a ponytail behind her. The other, a frown on her face and her wand out in front of her, was Parthenia Carran.

"We'll go to three strikes," Professor Stonecroft said, moving between them. He came to a stop at the edge of the field, his wand out as he watched the two of them carefully. "At my signal. Bow."

Victoire and Parthenia leaned forward, bowing to each other, but it seemed to Al as if they did so with reluctance, neither of them eager to take their eyes off the other.

"Wands out," Stonecroft directed, and Al found himself waiting with bated breath as both Victoire and Parthenia raised their wands, pointing them at each other.

Professor Stonecroft raised his own wand, letting it fall through the air between them. "Begin."

" _Impedimenta!"_ Parthenia cried, snapping her wand towards Victoire almost immediately.

A beam of light shot towards Victoire, and the eldest Weasley moved her wand quickly to intercept it.

" _Protego!"_ she cried, the shimmering light of the Shield Charm appearing in the air in front of her. Parthenia's curse bounced off of it, slamming into the defensive shields that surrounded the dueling field before it could strike any of the onlookers that pressed in close to the line, watching the duel with wide eyes. Victoire moved quickly, ducking out from behind her Shield Charm and pointing her wand at Parthenia from the side. _"Deprimo!"_

The wind picked up, a gale bursting forth from the tip of Victoire's wand. It skimmed the floor between Victoire and Parthenia, striking the Slytherin girl in the ankles and knocking her to the ground.

"Weasley, one point!" Professor Stonecroft shouted, but Victoire was moving before he could even speak, whipping her wand forward in a complicated pattern.

" _Incarcerous!"_ she said.

Ropes burst forth from the tip of her wand, shooting towards Parthenia. The Slytherin girl scowled, rolling over quickly to get her feet under her as she waved her wand in front of her. _"Incendio!"_

Bright flames bloomed over the ropes, reducing them to ashes as Parthenia jumped to her feet, running towards Victoire. She moved to flank her, pointing her wand at Victoire's side. _"Expulso!"_

The flames had blinded Victoire, and she blinked in alarm, her wand raised as she casted another Shield Charm. Before the shield could fully take form, an explosion tore through the air between them, knocking Victoire off her feet to shouts of dismay from the half of the room that included the Weasleys and the other Gryffindors and shouts of approval from Parthenia's supporters.

"Carran, one!" Stonecroft shouted as Victoire conjured a cushion to break her fall, then spun around, the point of her wand pointed at Parthenia's chest.

" _Aguamenti!"_

Parthenia, startled by the sudden counterattack, didn't have a chance to react as a jet of water shot outward from Victoire's wand, slamming into her chest and sending her stumbling back. Before Parthenia could react, and not even waiting to hear Stonecroft's shout of "Weasley, two!", Victoire raised her wand up close to her own chest, drawing in a deep breath.

" _Praestigemi,"_ Al heard her say.

There was a shimmering light, and then there were two Victoires, both of them standing apart from Parthenia. Al blinked and rubbed at his eyes, but the pair of them remained, identical expressions on their faces as they circled her. A murmur of approval moved through the crowd around him, and from over his left shoulder, he heard Rose take in a sharp breath. Parthenia got to her feet warily, wand out in front of her, looking left and right at the two figures. Her mouth moved, as if she was muttering under her breath.

"The Body-Double Charm," Rose breathed. "I'd heard that was ridiculously advanced…"

But there wasn't time to marvel. Parthenia's face split into an angry scowl, and she moved quickly, her wand pointed at the ground at Victoire and her double's feet as she spun in a circle. _"Aguamenti!"_ she said, and then _"Glacialis!"_

Water jetted outward from her wand, dampening the ground beneath Victoire's feet. As the second incantation touched it, it froze to ice, forcing both Victoire and her body double to work to keep their footing and buying Parthenia a few more moments. But the ice had done another thing entirely. Looking at the pair of Victoires now, Al noticed that one of them was moving naturally over the ice, trying to stay standing, while the other moved in awkward, jerky motions, mimicking the first. Parthenia's scowl turned into a grin of triumph and she spun to face the real Victoire.

" _Oppugno!"_ she said.

Shards of ice broke off from the circle at Victoire's feet, shooting towards her from below. Victoire's eyes widened, and she quickly swept her wand in a circle in front of her, shouting _"Incendio!"_ Flames burst outward from her wand, melting the ice, but one of the shards sneaked past the flames, slicing a thin line across her cheek even as she jerked her head back to avoid it.

"Carran, two!" Stonecroft cried.

The duel was heating up now. Behind him, the crowd roared, and Al found himself shoved forward as people crowded in around him, trying to get a better view. On the field in front of him, Victoire was leaping back, her wand moving in quick slashes in front of her as she cut down any remaining ice shards. Parthenia grinned as the shards shot towards Victoire, pointing her wand at the Gryffindor girl as she opened her mouth to cast another spell.

Al's breath caught in his throat, but before Parthenia could even speak, Victoire's wand moved, flicking towards Parthenia's face.

" _Langlock!"_

Parthenia's head jerked back with the force of the spell, her tongue gluing itself to the roof of her mouth. In one fluid motion, Victoire spun away from the remaining shards, bringing her wand to bear as she pointed it at Parthenia. _"Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!"_

Parthenia's wand flew out of her hand as her limbs seized, locking together so that the only thing that moved were her eyes, darting wildly from left to right. Victoire caught Parthenia's wand to cheers and applause as Stonecroft stepped forward, declaring her the victor. Al found himself shouting as well, his voice lost in the torrent as a crowd of older Gryffindors moved forward to greet Victoire, and even Dominique, in a rare moment of affection, let out a whoop of laughter and clapped her sister on the back.

"Come on!" Rose said, tugging at his wrist to go join them.

Al hesitated, his eyes moving towards Parthenia. She was picking herself up off the ground now, Stonecroft having cast the counter-spell at the instant the duel ended. There was a scowl on her face, her eyes narrowed in an expression that could only be rage as a boy stepped forward to help her to her feet, her eyes fixing on the crowd that surrounded Victoire.

He stopped walking. Rose frowned at him, looking back. "Al, what—?" she began.

"Who's that boy?" Al asked, inclining his head towards the boy that was helping Parthenia up, frowning at her in some concern. Rose glanced at him, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I think I've seen him around. He might be a Ravenclaw. You should ask Lorcan if he knows him."

Lorcan.

Al's head whipped around, looking for Lorcan Scamander, but it was impossible to pick out a single first-year in the throng. Before he knew it, Rose was dragging him forward again, and he had no choice but to follow her, losing himself deeper in the crowd.

* * *

 **A/N:** Etymologies of magical things original to this fic:

 _Singing nettle –_ A play on 'stinging nettle'. Instead of stinging you, these plants sing.

 _Canoricalix –_ Derived from the Latin nouns 'canor' meaning 'tune' and 'calix' meaning cup or chalice. Literally 'tune cup' and sort of a play on words, since when someone is tone deaf, people tend to say things like 'he/she couldn't carry a tune in a cup/bucket'.

 _Revorisio –_ Derived from the Latin word 'revorsio' or 'reverse'. A counterspell to Transfiguration, it reverts items that have been influenced by magic back to their prior state.

 _Praestigemi –_ Derived from two Latin words 'praestigia', meaning 'illusion' or 'trick' and 'gemino' meaning 'twin'.

 _Glacialis –_ Freezing spell, derived from the English word 'glacial' or the Latin word 'glacies'.


End file.
